


Something About Being Honest

by jaeger_delta (deltasierra)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-13 16:12:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9131818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltasierra/pseuds/jaeger_delta
Summary: Yuuri has no idea what he's doing to Victor, but Victor has a pretty good idea of what he's doing to Yuuri...A canon slow build kind of fic.





	1. Chapter 1

It was 3:21 am on a Friday night on one of the coldest nights of the year; even with the portable heater in Yuuri’s room, there was a chill that wouldn’t go away. Even for someone used to being on the ice day after day, it was uncomfortable. 

 

That must be why, Yuuri figured. That must be why he was lying awake staring at the ceiling, not daring to move. That must be why Victor Nikiforov, five times gold medalist, god on ice, choreographical genius, skating world legend, and Yuuri Katsuki’s perfect dream man in every way, climbed into Yuuri’s bed five minutes ago and was now snoring softly against his shoulder. Victor had thrown an arm across Yuuri’s chest and claimed Yuuri’s left leg for himself by clasping it between his own. 

 

By the time Yuuri had been awake enough to realize what just happened Victor had only mumbled something in Russian before pulling him in closer and falling back asleep.

 

_ What the hell!? _

 

Was this another Russian thing? Did Russians huddle together in bed against the cold? Even though Victor so far had shown immense resistance to lower temperatures, his hands and feet had felt a bit cold against Yuuri’s skin — before they’d heated up under the covers.

 

Boy, things were definitely heating up under the covers for Yuuri.

 

Victor had only been in Hasetsu for a few weeks, and Yuuri was still not convinced he wasn’t just hallucinating. Perhaps it was a nervous breakdown after all. There was no way it could be real, right? No way. Yuuri had grown up idolizing Victor, knowing everything about him, imitating every one of his programs until he danced them in his sleep. His room had been plastered in posters of Victor year after year from the day he saw Victor’s senior debut until the day he left to train with coach Celestino. He’d wanted to  _ be _ Victor, to skate on the same ice as him, and until a year ago he’d even been foolish enough to think he could share a stage with him. After his catastrophic failure at last year’s Grand Prix, though… Yuuri wasn’t sure if he’d ever would.

 

And then Victor had appeared, naked in the onsen, as if summoned by a divine power to personally set Yuuri back on his path.

 

There were moments where Yuuri felt so utterly _aware,_ knowing at once with crushing clarity that all of this was really happening, and Victor was really _here_ , _talking_ to him. Or, in this case, snuggling up to Yuuri as if he was Victor’s personal heated body pillow.

 

This was one of those moments. Every hair on his skin and every cell in his body was hyper-aware. His own breathing struggled to stay even whilst Victor happily snored away. That, and his body was having another reaction, one that was definitely keeping Yuuri awake, too.

 

It was a normal reaction, he tried to tell himself. After all, he only grew up dreaming about this his whole life. As a child he’d wanted to  _ be  _ Victor and as he’d gone into puberty he’d also started to just  _ want  _ Victor. He hadn’t told anyone; it was a ridiculous desire. It was probably just an extension of idolizing him, Yuuri had thought. And it was safe. He was never really interested in anyone else. With his skating career, he didn’t have time for anyone, anyway. If any girls had tried to flirt with him, he hadn’t noticed. In his mind, there was only Victor, and if he worked hard enough, practiced enough, he would be able to see Victor, meet Victor, compete with Victor.

 

_ Sleep with Victor _ , his subconscious offered helpfully.

 

It was something he’d always fantasized about, but not something he would realistically think to ever happen.

 

But now, on the coldest night in Kyushu, Victor had draped himself halfway over Yuuri’s body, and Yuuri’s body responded in the only way it could after a decade of desiring this man.

 

Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut and hoped his erection would go away on its own.

 

It didn’t, and after about fifteen minutes, it really started to hurt, too. What was Victor even doing to him? It was bad enough Victor messed with his head and body when Yuuri was awake, did he have to go and disturb his sleep, too?

 

Victor chose that moment to move around, shifting his right leg higher, his knee hitting the base of Yuuri’s hard-on.

 

Yuuri gasped and clapped a hand over his mouth.  _ Shit, shit, shit— _

 

Victor murmured something, continuing to blissfully sleep. Honestly. Now he was just starting to piss Yuuri off.

 

“Mmmm, Yuuri…” Victor mumbled in his sleep, and the hand that had been clinging to Yuuri’s shoulder skated down Yuuri’s chest.

 

_ What the hell!? _

 

When Victor’s fingertips brushed over his dick, Yuuri reacted purely on instinct, and unceremoniously shoved Victor the hell out of his bed with a loud cry.

 

“Nngh… that hurt,” Victor mumbled. It took a few seconds for him to fully wake up and realize where he was and what had happened. He looked around him, then at Yuuri, who was huddled against his bedroom wall, glaring at Victor. “Yuuri… that was rude,” he eventually said.

 

“What!?” Yuuri exclaimed. “What’s rude is… is you climbing into my bed in the middle of the night!!”

 

_ Why am I yelling at Victor Nikiforov, god on ice, my perfect dream man,  _ Yuuri thought, but his mouth wouldn’t stop. He’d suffered too long now and was utterly exasperated.

 

“And then you go and, and, and  _ touch me _ ! How dare you! For crying out loud, I’m still a—” Yuuri’s mouth snapped shut, the part of his mind that was still making sense slamming the big red STOP button on that piece of information.

 

Victor’s face was blank for a few seconds, taking in Yuuri’s outburst, and then a wicked smile appeared.

 

_ Oh no. _

 

Victor stood up and leaned forward, pointedly  _ not _ touching Yuuri’s bed now. “You’re still a…?”

 

Yuuri’s face turned beet red. “Th-that’s none of your business,” he grumbled, avoiding eye-contact.

 

“Mmmhmm,” Victor hummed, that smile still playing across his lips. His eyes raked over Yuuri’s body. “I was touching you, you said?”

 

Yuuri’s gaze followed Victor’s, whose eyes glinted in the dim light of the bedroom, and landed on Yuuri’s crotch.

 

_ Oh no, oh no, oh no— _

 

He was still hard, despite everything, his pyjama slacks visibly tented. Yuuri couldn’t possibly turn any redder. This was it. He was going to die of embarrassment, right here. He fiercely hoped he would. He hoped the earth would sink away below him and swallow him up. That seemed preferable to literally anything else right now.

 

Victor leaned forward even more, impossibly limber and graceful and tall as he was, ‘till Yuuri could feel the warmth of Victor’s breath on his skin. “Yuuuuriiii,” Victor complained in that voice that made Yuuri shiver, “You’re not being honest with me. It’s important to be honest to your coach, Yuuri. We talked about this…”

 

Yuuri attempted to melt into the wall behind him.

 

Victor’s gaze raked over Yuuri’s body again and this time it was as if Victor’s fingertips were ghosting over his skin. Yuuri shivered and swallowed hard.

 

Victor’s eyes narrowed, and then he leaned back, folding his arms over his chest and giving Yuuri an encouraging smile. “I’ll leave you to take care of yourself, then!” he said without even the slightest hint of shame. From what Yuuri had seen, Victor Nikiforov probably didn’t have any. 

 

Yuuri had enough for the two of them, anyway.

 

Victor winked at him and then flitted out of Yuuri’s bedroom before Yuuri could even blink.

 

_ What… what?? _

 

But Victor had left his space. Yuuri had expected him to… to push further.

 

_ Maybe I wanted him to _ , a completely unwanted thought bubbled up, making Yuuri’s ears burn.  _ No, no, definitely not! _

 

Despite the whole situation — Victor had respected his boundaries in the end, right? He couldn’t be blamed for sleepwalking. Or sleepfondling.

 

Yuuri groaned and let himself fall onto his pillow, pulling the covers over himself. 

 

And he was  _ still _ hard.

 

It… it couldn’t be helped, right? He’d done this countless of times with Victor in his mind. This was no different.

 

Yuuri licked his lips and snaked a hand down his abdomen. It was still soft, but not as much as it had been several weeks ago. His fingertips could feel the muscles underneath. Then his hand slid down further, into the smattering of dark pubes, and then with a deep sigh of relief he finally, finally grasped his cock. He began to move immediately, stifling a loud moan by burying his face into the pillow as his palm twisted over the sensitive head. Slick precum leaked out and he was close in minutes, hips jerking forward.

 

He couldn’t help it — he felt the ghost heat of Victor wrapped around him, those lithe fingertips skimming down his body, Victor’s soft murmuring breath on his neck. Victor’s glinting eyes when he’d seen Yuuri was hard. And everything Victor he had seen, felt and heard in the past few weeks — so much more than he had ever seen, felt and heard in the years and years before. His voice, his scent, his perfectly sculpted body, his perfect cock, soft and nestled in silver-colored pubes— 

 

“Victor—!,” Yuuri groaned, body stiffening as he came, hot pulses spilling over his hand. 

 

When the wave of pleasure subsided, embarrassment tinged his cheeks again, and he quickly wiped himself off. He’d have to do the sheets in the morning. And having finally gotten his release, a heavy exhaustion quickly took hold of him, pulling him to sleep.

 

* * *

 

A few rooms away, Victor Nikiforov was a very frustrated man.

 

He’d kept his composure around Yuuri, thankfully — a demonstration of real willpower, that, with Yuuri looking so deliciously flushed and obviously excited at Victor’s presence.

 

He hadn’t meant to sleepwalk and crawl into Yuuri’s bed. He wouldn’t want to push the young man that far, not now, not when he’d already gotten as far as he had. But he was getting some serious mixed signals. Last year at the GPF banquet, Yuuri had practically dry-humped him, and it had taken all of Victor’s willpower  _ then _ to not carry him off somewhere. But the boy had been drunk off his ass, and there was no way he was going to take advantage of that. Even if it had been really really hard not to, given how really really cute Yuuri was and how very very sexy his body was writhing up and down that pole.

 

_ I wonder how he looks writhing up and down mine _ , Victor thought.

 

When it came to Yuuri, not all of his thoughts were eloquent or decent.

 

He’d taken Yuuri skating Victor’s free program as an obvious invitation — not to mention Yuuri’s moves fascinated him as a skater. And he simply couldn’t forget that adorable face begging him  _ be my coach, Victor! _ whilst Yuuri’s body had been practically  _ undulating _ all over Victor’s own.

 

It wasn’t fair, it really wasn’t. What else was he supposed to do?

 

But when he’d arrived in Hasetsu, Yuuri had turned out to be nothing like the sexy seductive man he’d seen at the banquet. This Yuuri was awkward, insecure, fat — even though there was  _ something _ about Yuuri’s now softer body that made him all the more attractive, Victor mused, it was obvious how uncomfortable Yuuri was with himself. The lack of confidence wasn’t very sexy at all.

 

Tonight, though. Victor cursed under his breath. Yuuri had no idea what he was doing to his coach. 

 

It gave him hope. He knew this side of Yuuri existed, he’d seen it at the banquet, and now he’d seen the obvious desire Yuuri had for him.

 

He hoped he could persuade Yuuri to be more honest with himself, and with Victor. Good things could happen. Very good things. On the ice and off the ice. For now, he’d have to keep his composure, tolerate that pang of desire he felt every time he got close to Yuuri. He’d so wanted to reach out and touch Yuuri tonight. Almost.

 

Victor groaned and wrapped a hand around himself. “Yuuri…”

 

It didn’t take long for him to come, images of Yuuri’s banquet display flashing through Victor’s mind; Yuuri’s infectious smile, the way he’d held Victor against him in their dance, and that flush on his cheeks just now— 

 

It really wasn’t fair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tale of unwelcome boners and unresolved sexual tension continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh ugh I am so bad at writing YOI fic for some reason. I keep comparing it to my favorites (Winter Song in particular) and I have to tell myself it's okay to write something canon universe too... well, I hope you're all liking it so far!

Yuuri Katsuki was no longer under the illusion that Victor Nikiforov was a divine being sent to him to set him back on the right path as a figure skater. No, he was now quite sure Victor was a demon; an impossibly enticing, seductive, evil lust demon sent to Japan to drive him crazy.

 

He still recalled the feel of Victor’s soft thumb, pressing on his bottom lip and tugging it down slightly as Victor had brought his body and face close; close enough for Yuuri to breathe in his scent, to feel the warmth radiating off his body. That’s one thing Yuuri had learned about Victor: he was always so warm. Every time he stood close to Yuuri, touched him, hugged him, Victor’s heat poured into him from their points of contact, so warm it made Yuuri’s skin tingle.

 

At least, he thought it was a Victor thing. He wasn’t sure, and he’d come up with one way to find out.

 

Victor was out on the ice as Yuuri and Yurio stood by, listening to Victor’s melodious voice echoing through the rink hall.

 

“Watch carefully, you two,” Victor went on, as he demonstrated a part of the  _ Agape _ routine he’d choreographed. “Do not skate with your mind. The emotion must possess your body…”

 

Yuuri frowned. It was easy for Victor to say these things — the man was a genius! Just skate with your feelings? All Yuuri felt on the ice during competitions was constant anxiety. But he did remember when he’d taught himself Victor’s free skate program; it hadn’t been a competition then, and it had felt good. Even though he’d been completely out of shape, skating it had made his chest feel tight, had given him a sliver of hope that maybe not everything was lost. And it had brought Victor to him.

 

“What bullshit,” Yurio scoffed next to him. “He is full of it as always.”

 

Yuuri glanced at the young skater who was his rival for the local competition they’d set up. Yuuri tried to not think too much about what hinged on the outcome of that skate-off. “You think so?”

 

“Who cares about feelings? I will win from you because I am better than you, pork cutlet bowl,” Yurio snapped at him, glaring back at Yuuri.

 

Yuuri tried to keep a straight face. Sometimes Yurio’s posturing annoyed him, but it was very obvious most of the time. Yurio probably felt as intimidated by Victor as Yuuri did. Even if he talked big, Yuuri could see how focused on Victor’s performance Yurio was.

 

Maybe Yurio was better than him, though… but he shouldn’t think that way.

 

Now would be a good time to execute his plan, Yuuri thought.

 

He carefully dropped his right arm, flexing his fingers. Then slowly brought it up to the back of his head. Almost… Yurio was still focusing on Victor.

 

_ Now! Now’s my chance! _

 

Yuuri reached out and pressed his index finger against Yurio’s cheek.

 

“Haaah!!” Yurio flinched, slapping Yuuri’s hand away. “What are you doing, stupid pig!? Don’t touch me!”

 

Yurio’s temperature wasn’t as high as Victor’s at all, Yuuri had sensed. So it wasn’t a Russian thing… right? It was just Victor who was that warm.

 

Speaking of — Victor skated towards them.

 

“If you are not going to pay attention today I have better things to do, such as soaking in the hot springs!” Victor said with a smile that told Yuuri they were in trouble.

 

“Aaah, sorry!” Yuuri exclaimed. “Yes! I’m paying attention!”

 

“Idiot,” Yurio snapped.

 

“Well then. Yuuri,” Victor said. “Now I will show you. I added another element to our  _ Eros _ programme…” He slid his hands from his knees, over his thighs, to his waist, before skating away with a much too tempting smile. “Please look at my hips when I show you.”

 

Yuuri felt his face getting hot.  _ Eros _ was such a sensuous routine — and watching Victor skate it did all sorts of things to him. Just the sway of Victor’s hips, the way his body curved and seduced anyone watching— yeah, he would have no problem looking at Victor’s hips, or any other part of his body.

 

“Y-yes,” Yuuri mumbled.

 

“What are you blushing for,” Yurio shot at him.

 

Yuuri pretended he didn’t hear because he definitely wasn’t going to answer that question.

 

That evening, his body wouldn’t calm down. Victor had unwittingly (or intentionally? Yuuri really didn’t know at this point) pushed too many of buttons. Yuuri told himself it was probably just Victor trying to bring out the  _ Eros _ in him and hell, it was working.

 

He hadn’t even noticed he’d spaced out until a hand waved in front of his face. “... uuri? Yuuri? Are you okay?”

 

Yuuri looked up at his sister’s worried face. “Ah, sis… sorry,” he mumbled. His face still felt hot. 

 

“You were staring at Victor’s food and drooling,” Mari said.

 

Victor grinned at him and lifted a pork cutlet slice out of his bowl with chopsticks. “Vkusno!” he exclaimed, before shoving the piece in his mouth.

 

Yuuri stared. He stared at the food, which was so delicious, and his favorite, and he couldn’t have it, and the way the crispy layer crackled apart between Victor’s teeth, the way the egg slowly dripped off the slice, the oily shine left on Victor’s lips… the way Victor’s tongue slid out to lick at the leftover crumbs… Victor’s eyes meeting his.

 

Yuuri licked his own lips in response. Victor and his favorite food combined was… really, really sexy…

 

Yuuri became suddenly aware his family was also sitting at the same table, as well as Yurio.

 

“Ahh… aaahhh!” he exclaimed, jumping up and bolting off towards his room.

 

Yuuri slammed the door behind him and sagged onto the floor, his face buried in his hands.  _ Dear God in Heaven, let them not have seen anything. _

 

He parted his hands from his face, glanced down and groaned. Oh yes. The sight of Victor eating a pork cutlet bowl had made him hard.

 

Yuuri wondered how much lower he could sink at this point. “I guess I have found my Eros,” he mumbled.

 

Then he nearly pulled a muscle standing up as their was a knock on his bedroom door.

 

“Yuuri…” Victor’s voice came. 

 

_ Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I can’t let him see me like this--not again! _

 

“Er, um, I’m not feeling well,” Yuuri stammered.

 

“Really? I should take a look,” Victor answered. His voice still had that usual playful tone, but Yuuri could hear the hint of worry, too. “As your coach your health is important to me.”

 

“I just need to rest,” Yuuri said, cursing how shaky his voice came out.

 

“... Maybe I have been pushing your diet too much, if looking at pork cutlet bowls is making you ill…” Victor went on.

 

Yuuri rested his head against the door. He glanced down, and his excitement sure hadn’t gone away. Just like last time… he probably would have to take care of it. But there was no chance if Victor wasn’t going to leave him alone.

 

“Your family is worried too, Yuuri,” Victor said.

 

Yuuri’s eyes went wide. Oh no — what if Victor went to fetch his mom? Or worse, his  _ sister _ ? He’d be mocked for eternity. And he probably  _ had _ made everyone worry, bolting away from the dinner table like that.

 

Yuuri sighed. Okay. Maybe… maybe he could let Victor into his room and just convince him he needed rest.

 

He dashed to his bed, crawling under the covers, lying on his stomach. He had to stifle a gasp when he rubbed himself against the mattress by accident. Why was this happening to him? Victor Nikiforov was going to be the moral death of him.

 

“Okay, you can come in,” Yuuri called out, clenching and unclenching his fist.  _ It’s gonna be okay, I’ll just talk to him, and then he’ll leave. _

 

Victor opened the door and ran towards the bed. “Yuuri!” Victor sat down on the bed and immediately brought his hand up to Yuuri’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

 

Yuuri dared a glance at Victor’s face — he looked really worried.

“‘m okay, really,” Yuuri mumbled. “I just need rest.”

 

“Are you sure? What if you have a fever? That won’t do,” Victor said, frowning. “I have to take responsibility as your coach.”

 

Yuuri suppressed a groan. Victor was always saying something like that as an excuse. He was the strangest coach Yuuri had ever had. What did Victor even mean by that? Taking responsibility…

 

Victor stood up and without further ado grabbed the covers and yanked them right off Yuuri.

 

Yuuri shivered from the sudden chill. “Whaa—! Victor!”

 

Thank god he’d had the wisdom to lie on his stomach. “Victor, please put the covers back,” he stammered. “I’m cold.”

 

“But I have to examine you,” Victor said. 

 

Yuuri’s mind went blank for a split second. “...What?”

 

“Don’t worry! I am certified in First Aid! In Russia, anyway,” Victor went on. “This will only take a minute or two. Roll over, Yuuri.”

 

What?  _ What?!  _

 

Yuuri’s fingers dug into the sheets. “Uh… no.”

 

Victor frowned. “No?”

 

Yuuri scrambled for an excuse. “Um, you’re not a doctor,” he said. “You don’t know what you’re doing.” His face flushed. How dare he even talk to Victor that way? Victor was just honestly trying to care for him and here Yuuri was, trying to squash his erection out of existence, and Victor’s immediate presence and the prospect of Victor touching him having the opposite effect.

 

Suddenly, Victor was close. Very very close. He was leaning over Yuuri, his breath tickling the back of Yuuri’s neck, his hands at Yuuri’s sides.

 

“I told you to be honest with me, Yuuri,” Victor said, his voice an octave lower, making Yuuri shiver.

 

Yuuri burrowed his head into the pillow.  _ What now?! How was he going to get out of this situation? _

 

—

 

It wasn’t fair at all. Victor’s arms trembled at Yuuri’s sides and he bit his lip. No, he couldn’t go any further — but God, he wanted to.

 

Victor generally could tell when people desired him. It happened often enough. It happened to him all the time. He’d learned very early how to tell, and he’d learned the hard way how to pick and choose. 

  
Yuuri was blissfully unaware of how attractive he was. He seemed to have this idea that he was the complete opposite. With the Eros routine, Victor had hoped to bring out the side of Yuuri that had previously only made its appearance after a very large amount of champagne. Surely he could find it and bring it to the surface; he had to. Not just Victor, but the whole world should see, how alluring Yuuri was, how beautifully he could skate when he let go of his insecurities. But more than anything else, he wanted Yuuri to see it himself, how his very body could create music. 

 

And Victor wanted to make Yuuri’s body sing in every way possible.

 

It was so obvious how Yuuri — or at least Yuuri’s body — reacted to him. This was also music to Victor, a song Yuuri wasn’t even aware he was singing, with every sidelong glance, every blush, every twitch, the way his body language shifted to match Victor’s. Victor was enthralled by it, tempted, as if a spell was being cast on him.

 

But if Victor wasn’t careful, the melody could turn sour.

 

What could he do or say? Something that wouldn’t chase Yuuri away, something that didn’t pull or push too much.

 

Victor was used to being desired, but he was somewhat new to desiring others. He’d never truly let himself feel this much — but Yuuri… Yuuri was different.

 

Yuuri kind of made his head go fuzzy.

 

Victor leaned forward a bit and let his head rest against the back of Yuuri’s neck. He closed his eyes, breathed in Yuuri’s scent for as long as he dared, and then sat back.

 

“Okay, get some rest then,” he said, trying to shake off his own uncertainty. It was stupid. He wanted Yuuri, and Yuuri wanted him. It should be simple. But it wasn’t. He felt weirdly uncomfortable and unsure and he was Victor Nikiforov, who should not be unsure about anything.

 

At the door, Victor paused, not turning around. “Yuuri, I… hope you’ll trust me more soon.”

 

A while later after informing his family Yuuri was okay, Victor collapsed in his own bed with a groan and Makkachin hopped up to nuzzle him.

 

“Makkachin, what do I dooooo?” Victor whined, wrapping his arms around his beloved dog. “Why did I say that? ‘I hope you’ll trust me more’? What does that even mean? What was I thinking?”

 

Makkachin barked and looked at Victor with the same sympathetic eyes that had melted his heart the day he’d adopted the poodle.

 

Victor burrowed his face into Makkachin’s fur. The dog was a little smelly — he needed a bath soon — but for now, Victor didn’t care. “I hope I didn’t mess up,” he mumbled, curling up with Makkachin’s soft warm furry body, and drifted off to sleep.


End file.
